


Dad

by yellowpaintpots



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Brothers, Gen, Nightmares, Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Running Away, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28149534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowpaintpots/pseuds/yellowpaintpots
Summary: The boys only ever call Phil 'Dad' when they're emotional or hurt. Here are some of those times.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Comments: 13
Kudos: 520





	Dad

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't proofread this im running on 2 hours of sleep enjoy
> 
> Also if you want to send me fic prompts feel free to send them to yellowpaintpots on tumblr :)

Techno is seven years old. He sits curled up on his bed, sniffling quietly and trying not to wake his sleeping brothers. His eyes sting with tears, sore and red and Techno is exhausted. He just wants to sleep, but he can't bring himself to close his eyes again.

He carefully makes his way off his bed, shaky legs carrying him out of the partially opened bedroom door and down the hall. He can head Phil humming to himself.

The soft glow of the furnace Phil is standing over lights up the room just enough to see but not enough to hurt his eyes. Phil turns around when he hears Techno behind him, his shadow on the wall shifting with him.

"Techno? It's late, what are you doing up?" He asks, a touch of worry in his voice as he knelt down besides his upset son.

Techno shakes and wraps his arms around himself, not wanting to make eye contact. He squeezes his eyes shut and faces down.

"...Is it the nightmares again?"

Techno nods.

"Oh, Techno..." Phil murmurs, reaching out to gently tug his son closer. Techno's forehead hits the center of Phil's chest and he can feels his arms wrapped around him. Techno breaks, allows a new wave of tears to fall as he grips the front of Philza's shirt and cries.

"Dad..." His voice is shaky and muffled by the hug.

Phil gently rocks him. "I've got you, son. It's alright. I won't let anything happen to you."

* * *

Tommy is ten years old. He pouts and crosses his arms, looking down at his shoes as he kicks the gravel under him. He hates being in trouble, yet somehow always ends up in it.

"Tommy."

Tommy finally looks up and frowns. Phil is stood in front of him, a look both disappointed and exhausted on his face.

"I'm not apologising," Tommy says. "Why should I be sorry? I didn't do anything wrong."

"You ran away," Phil says. 

Tommy can see Wilbur and Techno behind Phil, partially hidden by the bedroom door. They're listening. Of course they are, they love when he gets in trouble.

But they don't look like they're having fun.

"Yeah, well, it would've worked if Tubbo didn't get us lost."

"We didn't know where you were—"

"That was the point!" Tommy shouted. "You weren't supposed to! That's why we were running away. I wanted to be alone!"

He sees Wilbur take Techno's hand. They whisper something to each other and that just makes Tommy even more upset.

"Me and Tubbo could've made our own house. We were gonna build a tree house, and it was gonna be better than living here—"

"You could've died!"

Tommy stops. He notices Wilbur shrink back. Techno pulls Wilbur out of sight behind the door.

Phil sighs. "You could've died, Tommy," He says again, softer this time. "We were scared. We—" He stops, looks away and blinks a few times before rubbing his eyes. "You're my son, Tommy. And I love you. We all do. We were scared."

Tommy looks down. "I—" He feels the guilt tugging at him. "I'm sorry, Dad. I just wanted to feel more grown up."

"I know," Phil says. "We'll work on that, ok? Maybe we can build you a tree house outside for you and Tubbo to stay in sometimes."

Tommy looks up, breaking into a smile. "Could we really?"

"Yeah, of course. But I need you to promise not to pull something like this again, ok?"

"I promise."

* * *

Wilbur is twenty four years old.

He stumbles and falls directly into Phil's arms. Phil holds him tight, close to his chest as he slowly sinks down to the floor. Wilbur's breath comes out shaky and in between gasps and whimpers. Phil gently strokes his hair.

"It'll be ok. We'll be ok," He whispers, as if that'll change anything. He knows it won't, but the words offer a fake blanket of comfort and if Wilbur is to die in his arms, he wants him to at least have that comfort.

Even after everything.

Wilbur shivers and whimpers as he curls up tighter, bloody fingers gripping tight to Philza's shirt. He closes his eyes and he feels the wetness on his cheeks, although he no longer knows if its blood or tears.

"You're ok," Phil says again, a soft whisper into Wilbur's hair. "I've got you, it's ok."

"D-Dad," Wilbur cries in pain. "I r-really fucked up this- this time, didn't I?"

"You did some bad things," Phil agrees.

Wilbur whimpers again. Phil feels him move, and Wilbur sits up as best as he can.

"Hey, dad?"

"Yeah, Will?"

Wilbur smiles, eyes full of tears. There's ash and blood and dirt all over him, staining his clothes and skin and hair. He wipes his hand over his cheek, smearing blood.

"Thank you," He whispers, before collapsing back against Phil.

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder that I take fic prompts in tumblr (yellowpaintpots)


End file.
